Perfection
by Toygerzrock
Summary: Carly Shay is perfect. It is expected of her. Carly centric.
1. Preface

**Perfection**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly.**

Carly Shay was perfect. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect clothes, perfect personality, perfect grades. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It was expected.

Spencer expected it. She was to be the perfect little sister. She was perfectly sensible, but also perfectly kooky. She did her homework and the dishes. She was to be responsible one moment, and then artistic and crazy the next. But it wasn't a problem. Perfection can change at the switch of a flip, and Carly Shay was perfect.

Sam expected it. Carly Shay may as well have been Sam's mother. She scolded, she praised, she taught and she raised her. She offered Sam a warm house, a full fridge, and a support system. Some may have felt the strain of the nearly one-sided friendship, but not Carly Shay. Perfection is the perfect mother, and Carly Shay was perfect.

Freddie expected it. From the moment he first laid his eyes on her, Carly Shay was put onto a pedestal; a pedestal that kept rising. With each "I love you," the pedestal rose a foot. His eyes sought out qualities that didn't exist, but Carly Shay made up for them. Perfection always lives up to expectations, and Carly Shay was perfect.

Gibby was the first to notice it; the first to question her. It had been so easy to blow his question off; so easy to bend the truth into an alternate story. But not a lie. Perfection never lies, and Carly Shay is perfect. No, she didn't lie, but she didn't tell the truth, either.

"Why do you carry that toothbrush around?" He had asked.

"Oh this?" She was so nonchalant about it, he couldn't not believe her. "My dentist says to brush after every meal. Got to keep the enamel shiny!" She flashed him a smile and waggled the toothbrush around. Confidence was easily faked, though perfection never fakes. Perfection only pretends, and Carly Shay was perfect.

Seventeen minutes after eating her lunch of an apple, a few almonds and a bottle of water, like clockwork, Carly Shay went to the restroom. She checked underneath the stalls for feet, and when her search yielded none, she pushed open the door to the last stall. Its hinges were rusty and crooked, while the toilet handle was rusty. Nobody used this stall, not even the girls on the verge of desperation. It was Carly Shay's well kept secret.

She crinkled her nose, as perfection does when it smells something unpleasant, and sprayed some perfect smelling body spray. With perfect, practiced movements, she yanked the toothbrush out of its case and shoved it down her throat. She barely gagged anymore. She was swift, quiet and clean, because perfection always is, and Carly Shay is perfect.

After flushing, she carefully washed off her toothbrush. She brushed her teeth vigorously and methodically, leaving her smile shiny and her breath minty. Carly Shay brushed after every meal, just like she said she did. She left the bathroom, a large smile on her face. Carly Shay is back to her perfect life. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect clothes, perfect personality, perfect grades. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It was expected, after all.

**Author's Note: Okay, so there you have it, the preface. I'm not sure how long this will be, but I will post at least once a week. If you suspect that somebody you know may have an eating disorder, seek help. Eating disorders can be deadly.**


	2. Friday

**Perfection**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly**

Carly Shay knew she had a problem. She knew that normal people didn't throw up twice a day. She knew that other people weren't perfect. She knew that. It didn't really make a difference, though. In the beginning, she had been unsure, but now she had it all figured out. Skip breakfast. Light lunch, bathroom and toothbrush. Dinner with Spencer, bathroom, toothbrush and shower. It had worked to her advantage that she had always showered at night, anyways. It meant that she didn't have to pretend as hard to not be throwing up after dinner. He wouldn't have noticed anyway. He's not really the responsible type.

Math class. She hates it. The numbers don't make sense. She has to work her butt off in that class. If she brings home a bad grade, she'll have to have a tutor. She can't stand the thought of a tutor; it makes her feel slow. Why doesn't she get it? The other kids get it, they excel. She studies for hours; she stares at the pages until the numbers no longer look like numbers.

"Hey, Carly, come on," Somebody is nudging her. It's Sam. "The bell rang, like three minutes ago."

"Oh." She must have zoned out. She picks up her things. The math book feels like lead in her arms. They plod along in silence through the empty halls. It's Friday.

"Hey, can I stay the night at your place?" It is not a surprise question. Sam asks every Friday. The answer is always a yes. For three years, Sam has slept over at the Shay apartment nearly every Friday.

"'Course." Sometimes Carly wonders what would happen if she said no. Would Sam freak out? Would she care? Would she stay over anyways? She feels like saying no tonight. She isn't really in the mood for company.

"'Kay, cool," She searches for her mom's beat up truck. Per usual, Carly spots it first. And, also as usual, Sam waves to her mother. Most people wouldn't think anything of the wave. It looks like a summoning gesture, and it is. But, you have to know Samantha Puckett well to understand that that extra flick of the wrist added at the end is only for her mother.

They climb into the truck and turn on the radio. They sing aloud to Taylor Swift, with their hair blowing crazily in the wind. The car ride home embodies everything that a Friday should be. Carly is always the first out of the truck, and she always goes inside to check the mail while Sam exchanges a hug with her mother.

Up the stairs they go. They turn the corner and arrive at 8-D's door. Sam raps on it loudly.

"Open the door, Benson!" She yells. Sometimes she waits for him to open the door, but usually she picks the lock and ambushes him. Today is a Friday, so she goes for the ambush. He expects it, takes it, and then makes a comment about it which leads to a quick exchange of insults, all in the realm of normalcy. Usually, Carly mediates, but it's all good natured ribbing, because it's Friday.

They go to the iCarly studio and each claim their respective beanbags. Freddie taps away at his laptop, Sam reads a trashy gossip magazine, and Carly studies her math book.

"Ooh, quiz!" Sam announces. Whenever she finds a quiz in one of her magazines, she makes Carly or Freddie take it. Today it seems like Carly is the victim of choice. "Okay Carls, today we are going to find out who your perfect man is." Carly rolls her eyes, but of course obliges. "It's Friday night—"

"We know it's Friday night," Freddie says.

"Excuse me, do you have a problem with this quiz?" She raises her eyebrows, and it's a challenge. Freddie never backs down form a challenge.

"These things are just so stupid. You can't find your soul mate from a quiz."

"You wanna take the quiz instead, lover boy?" He doesn't reply. Sam clears her throat.

"Okay, it's Friday night and you don't have any plans. Do you stay at home, or catch a movie?"

"Movie," Carly replies.

"What kind of guy do you like?" She pauses. Carly knows that she is waiting for Freddie to chime in with a highly predictable answer so that she can come in with the also extremely predictable, 'Carly will never love you.' However, this time, he stays quiet. Sam waits a full thirty seconds before moving on. Carly offers up mostly monosyllabic answers.

There it is. His lack of response hits her hard. She never liked Freddie as anything more than a friend and his crush was an annoyance, but his silence hurt her. It made her feel like the rejected toy in the bottom of the basket. After being coveted for so long, his missing 'I love you' made her feel ugly and unlovable. She wondered how she could have let herself slip. She was self conscious. Had she gained weight? That must be it.

She barely ate that night. She nibbled on things here and there, but she let Sam do the eating. They watched Girly Cow on the couch, and when Sam fell asleep halfway through, she went to the bathroom. She grabbed her toothbrush and emptied her stomach. As she sat fell asleep on the couch that night, she was happy. Freddie would come over tonight to do a "Wake Up Spencer," segment with Sam. Maybe he would see Carly on the couch and remember why he liked her. She was glad that she was wearing her tie dye shirt and black shorts. The combo made her waist look teeny. Maybe he would look at her and see perfection.

**A/N: This isn't my favorite chapter. I had a lot of trouble writing it. It turned out okay in the end, though. The next chapter will be better, though. Thanks to all of the nice people that reviewed; your reviews seriosuly made my day!**


	3. Alone

**Perfection**

**Disclaimer: I own naught of iCarly. **

Carly Shay was alone. She was alone in every meaning of the word. Spencer was at the store, and Sam had left. The apartment was empty, and she was alone. She had fallen asleep on the couch the night before. The air vent was almost directly above her, and she had had the air conditioning blowing on her all night. Her skin had raised goose bumps.

She walked to the shower and turned the hot water up until it was scalding. The goose bumps were soon replaced by sensitive red skin. Carly Shay reached for her razor, but couldn't quite see it through the steam. She accidentally grabbed the head instead of the handle. Blood began welling up and out of her fingers. Startled, she dropped the razor, the plastic piece holding the blades together shattering, and the blades falling to the ground. She quickly turns the water off and gathers the strewn blades, but not before hurting herself a few more times. She wraps them up in toilet paper and throws them away.

She attends to her wounds and continues getting ready for the day. Carly Shay is feeling much better. Whenever she tries to pick something up, her injured fingers hurt, but on the whole her outlook on life is just a little cheerier. She's wondering if Freddie saw her. Although, if he had seen her, wouldn't he have covered her with a blanket, considering the temperature? It bothers her until she thinks that maybe he was looking at her and didn't want her covered with a blanket. Maybe the clothes she had worn last night had succeeded. Maybe.

Carly Shay walked out of her apartment and into the vacant hallway. She was alone. She heard the lock click close and she felt as if nobody else on Earth was around. At the same time, a whole world was buzzing around just outside of the building. If she were to cease existing, would anybody really care? The world was so large, would the loss of just one human make a difference at all?

She opened the door to the Groovy Smoothie and the noise and warmth surrounded her. At the back of the store, she saw Sam and Freddie, locked into an intense match of arm wrestling. They were surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, but they were completely submerged in their own little completive world where only the two of them existed. Carly Shay was alone on the outside.

She walked closer, and immediately she could hear Sam's yelling. Normally, a competition like this with Freddie should have been a cakewalk on Easter Sunday, but with Freddie's newfound height and muscle mass, he was holding his own.

"Come on Benson! Is that all you got?" She is upon them now. They are both straining, and the onlookers are getting bored.

"I don't know, Sam. Seems to me as if," She watches him pause to lean in close, "You're having some trouble."

After this, Carly Shay witnessed a feat that would stun some kind of unstunabble person: Freddie pinned Sam's arm down to the table, winning the match. He only got to whoop with delight once before Sam tackled him and poured an Orange Julius down his shirt. Carly Shay had been standing there for eight minutes, and neither had noticed her. She felt like leaving, but she couldn't just not show up. That would be very rude, and not at all in a manner conducive to perfection. She waited another fifty-two seconds before they noticed her.

After an uneventful meeting over smoothies (In which Carly Shay was mostly ignored by the bickering duo) Carly Shay returned to her apartment, alone. She walked over to the freezer to preserve the half of her small smoothie that she didn't drink, when she noticed a note on the refrigerator. It was from Spencer.

"Kiddo~ taking the bus with Socko up to Canada for their independence day. I'll be home around eight. I replaced the batteries in the fire alarm, so if something catches fire, you'll know.

-Spencer"

She was alone. She goes upstairs to the bathroom and pulls out her toothbrush. Smoothies have a lot of sugar in them, and Carly Shay knows that sugar turns to bubbling fat. She brushes her teeth with the new purple toothpaste that Spencer bought. It's supposed to make your teeth brighter.

Carly Shay spends the rest of her day studying for a math quiz. At 11:00, when Spencer still isn't home, she turns on all of the lights and goes upstairs. She turns her TV on and puts the volume on low. When she hears thumping sounds she locks her door. She wishes that she had somebody to protect her. She wishes she had a boyfriend. Maybe if she had a boyfriend, she wouldn't be so alone. A boy would protect her and love her no matter what. Maybe if she had a boyfriend, she could be perfect.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm very sorry that its taken me eons to update, but my grandmother was recently diagnosed with cancer, and I haven't really been able to write this fic. Plus I got Zoo Tycoon 2 working again and I've been nerding out on it. . I'm such a dork. On another note, I love reading all of the nice reviews that you guys send me. They make my heart swell. (Well, actually my lungs as I always say "Awwww..." when I read my reviews.) It kind of sounds pathetic, but your reviews really make me smile and put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. **


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